Day 34

Sunday | April 1st, 2012


No joke, I was roused from Sunday morning sleep by two whining dogs and a Meow offering a haircut in exchange for walking the dogs then and there. No shower, no breakfast, no water, just out the door.

Yesterday, we ran into one of my coworkers; today would’ve been embarrassing with the general bedraggled look I’ve got going each morning. The cold wind was back and shuffling around my mess of hair.

The dogs, Twitchy specifically, drove our entourage over the footbridge to the park with all the tall grass. I didn’t have the energy for this, but whatever the dogs want.

I walked along the bank and found a few nice rocks. One I carried home even though I kept telling myself not to. Some distant memory of my rocks and all the time spent learning about them or trading and fighting for them wouldn’t let me drop this sparkly green one. The whole bank is a mix of crushed granite, seashells, gravel and other rocks that aren’t indigenous to Korea. This got me thinking of a huge rock munching machine somewhere (probably China) where rocks come from all over Asia to get mashed and mixed and sold to construction companies for filler. Maybe not though, I’ve always thought there were a fair amount of quarries in Korea as granite is the most overused material in buildings and government works. But all this thinking about rocks just made me wish I’d paid more attention in my university when my science teacher (himself a geologist) was rambling on about things on every field trip. Then I just felt regret and regret is a bullshit emotion, so the green rock was dropped in a pocket and the whole tangent flushed.

Eventually, I got pooped out before the others were ready to leave the park and I wanted to lie down in the sun for a bit on this platform which sits about mid-height in the grass. I was wearing the same heavy jacket as last time and again thought that this must be what it feels like to wear a spacesuit.

Later on, Meow gave me a hair cut. This is good because although I prefer to cut it myself, she at least is satisfied with my head from all angles. When I do it, the back is touch and go; sometimes it’s great, other times a crooked mess. I don’t care, but Meow really does, so I relent and wait for her to cut my hair. Having shorter hair shaves at least 15 minutes off of my princess time before going out as it takes a lot less primping to get a nice pompadour going. It also saves on wax.

I spent the rest of the evening rewatching more episodes of Buck Rogers. I figure the more old shows I can watch from my childhood, the more I can understand both about my imagination and how I perceived the world when I was young. It’s not that have gaps or bad memories, it’s that I want to better understand what influenced me. In the case of Buck Rogers, some of the episodes were scary (particularly the one where people get turned into mummies) so early reference points I have for fear come from things like Buck Rogers.

I finished up the first season finally and next weekend will start the second season which has the mummy episode. In one of the episodes I watched today, I spotted a precursor of the modern Teletubbie:

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